Burned
by halffictionalprincess
Summary: Apart Hermione and Draco were flames that burned bright, but together they were an unstoppable fire, but even the strongest fires fizzle out.


_**A/n- This is something that makes a lot of sense to me about Draco and Hermione.**_

 _ **Disclaimer-I wish…**_

 _ **Burned**_

Hermione had known the minute she'd given him her heart that he wouldn't just break it; he would burn it. He wouldn't give back pieces that she could band-aid together, but he'd return ashes.

The thing about fire is that when it burns, it burns bright. It takes away even the deepest of darkness. It's beautiful as it changes its colours from blue to yellow to orange to red.

Love burns the same way.

It starts with a blue spark, a spark of chemistry, and then it catches yellow flame, slowly finding its feet before it turns red. It turns passionate and ravishes and burns everything it can.

Their love burned red, until it didn't.

And then it dies out.

Leaving behind only pieces, charred, broken and completely destroyed pieces of what used to be whole.

She should've been scared, should've seen it from the beginning, should've seen love for what it was. She should've known that she would be the one left behind, charred and turned to ashes.

She should've known that no matter how beautiful it is, no matter how exhilarating, fire still burns. Should've known that nothing lasts forever, not even fire.

But he attracted her like a moth to a flame and she'd flown directly into him, losing all that she had.

They'd burned bright and beautiful, she'd lived a lifetime in every moment she'd spent with him. The fire of his love had kept the cold of reality at bay. Every breath she'd taken while she was with him could've been her last and she would've been okay with it.

But like every fire, they'd fizzled out.

Their love hadn't disappeared but he had left, taking away parts of me I thought I needed. He'd been a lit match and I was gasoline, together we'd created an explosion so fast, you could've missed it if you blink.

Yet it'd still burned everything she was.

She wished she could forget it, wished she could hate him for burning her so bad she couldn't even find the ashes. She wanted to be angry at him, wished she could despise him, but she couldn't.

Because what kept her warm at night were the memories.

She remembered everything, every time he'd kissed her, every time he'd laughed, every time he'd held her hand. Every time she closed her eyes she was his face, those stormy eyes that hid so much pain, his light touch, the way he used to stop her babbling by kissing her, and the way his hands would always find hers.

She didn't regret a single moment spent with him, she couldn't, no matter how much it hurt to breathe without him. How the burns on her heart hurt with every beat.

She didn't regret it, she didn't regret them

They'd shone brighter than the moon, brighter than the sun and the stars. They'd burned.

And they'd burned red.

* * *

It had been the fire in her eyes that had first attracted him.

Draco had caught glimpses of the fire that existed inside her that she tried so hard to hide. It broke through her walls whenever they fought.

She never looked more beautiful to him than she did when her eyes lit up with passion, and her lips turn ready to argue, or as he later figured out, whenever they kissed.

He'd never loved anyone before, he hadn't known he was even capable of falling in love, but the first time she'd laughed with him, not at him, his heart had melted right out of his chest. He'd never been enough for anyone before, never been able to meet all that was expected of him.

No one had made him feel complete like she did.

With her, he'd been happy, and for the first time in his life he'd felt as if the weight on his shoulders had lessened somehow.

The fire in her heart had been enough to warm his frozen heart. With her he'd burned, he'd let the flames break through all his walls, tear away all his faults.

And that had been the best and worst thing he ever did.

He'd taken all the warmth she could give, taken away pieces of her to hold himself together. She'd been his solace, because with her he'd felt warm enough to survive. She'd given all of herself to him and he'd taken it.

And when the fire fizzled out, all they were left with were ashes.

The warmth had vanished, and reality had invaded. The cold he'd been so used to before her, had returned.

What'd hit him the hardest, as he'd pushed her away from him, was the lack of fire in her eyes. The knowledge that it was him, who had destroyed the most beautiful heart in the world, had been excruciating. He'd taken away her warmth, for a few moments of relief, and he'd never be able to return it to her.

No matter how much he wished he could.

He'd held on to the remnants of that fire in his own heart, still being selfish enough to hold on to parts of her he had no right to hold on to.

But the truth is; they are what kept him alive.

He knew she still smiled, but it wasn't as bright as it used to be, he knew her eyes still shined, but they no longer twinkled like stars on a new moon night.

She was still her but it seemed as if… … someone had stolen her warmth.

She no longer burned.

And it killed him to know that he was the reason why.

He wished he could regret it, regret them, but he couldn't, not when she'd saved him. She'd saved him from reality, from expectations, from prejudices.

Saved him from himself.

She was the life of him, and he loved her more than with every breath he took.

He wished he could kiss her, just once more, hold her like he'd never have to let go. He wished he could light that fire again and let it burn them both once again.

He missed her, missed her smile, her laugh. He missed the way she could make him smile after anything; he missed her obsession with books. He missed the way he could rile her up so easily. He longed for her like the ocean longs for the shore line, always trying to come near it, but it's always sent away.

He missed the way his heart used to be around her, it never beat normally around her, it always acted differently.

Beat, skip, beat, skip, beat, skip….

She made him want more than he could have, made him want to shine brighter than his own light.

And it was her, who made him want to burn.

They'd shone brighter than the moon, brighter than the sun and the stars. They'd burned.

And they'd burned red.

 _ **A/n- Hope you liked it. Please review.**_


End file.
